


Holiday Beginnings

by paperdollkisses



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdollkisses/pseuds/paperdollkisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Feelstide 2015 prompt # 54 : <i>One trying to get home to family, flights delayed and stuck in airport... meets other.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta NorthAtlantic who I owe all my well edited stories to. I just tell the story and try to make it pretty, folks. She shines it up for me.
> 
> The funny thing about this prompt is I think I'm the person who prompted it. It just sounds like something I would like to read, which is why I wrote it. LOL. Enjoy.

Clint sighed as the lights in the terminal flickered for the tenth time, following it up with two deep breaths as he listened to the sounds around him. The squeak of aging plastic chairs blended with an assortment of coughing and sniffles, fussing children, and garbled sound of multiple voices in conversation; even in the dark, it was unmistakably the sound of late night in an airport. He rubbed at eyes dry from recirculated heated air before shifting to stretch the aching muscles of his injured leg, the cracked plastic of his chair joining the symphony of squeaks and groans.

Large white snowflakes blowing rapidly around in the air broke the darkness as Clint peered out the grimy shatterproof windows. He imagined that he could hear the howl of the wind outside, and something about that made the edges of his lips curl, his usual fierce expression softening. He gave into the restlessness then, took another deep breath and stood carefully. The muscles in his right knee protested at even a shallow lunge to loosen them and a short hiss of pain accompanied the movement. He lunged to the opposite side and then stretched out his back before turning to pick up the black duffle at his feet. He was pretty sure he should just go ahead and admit to himself they were going to cancel the red-eye flight. It would be the logical thing to do - it had been delayed twice already. But there was no way he wanted to have to spend the night in those ill-fitting seats, so he clung to the sliver of hope that he wouldn’t have to and he’d actually make it to Tasha’s apartment by the time light broke on Christmas day. 

Shouldering the bag he turned and took a few stiff steps, his usual grace absent. While avoiding an errant hi-bounce ball and a kid that was chasing it, he stepped on someone’s foot as his knee buckled. “Sorry, sorry.” he muttered when his hand closed on that same someone’s shoulder as he automatically reached out to steady himself.

“Hazard of public transport.”

While the sweater was really soft, Clint couldn’t help but notice the deltoid beneath it was most certainly not - and the whole package was attached to a man with really pretty blue eyes. Eyes that crinkled at the edges as the irritation at being stepped on grew into what could be classified as amusement as the gaze turned to where Clint’s hand, the traitor, was actually petting the fabric. _Well, crap_ , he thought, cheeks reddening a little at the untoward thoughts. 

The corner of the guys mouth twitched up. “It’s an Alpaca blend.”

“Huh?” He could be excused for being distracted, Clint though defensively. After all, there were a lot of things to be distracted with at the moment.

“The sweater? It’s an Alpaca silk blend.” A low chuckle accompanied that revelation, warm and soft as the textile in question. “Phil.” Blue Eyes held out the hand of the arm that wasn’t being fondled.

“No, Clint.” Clint reached to take it, long fingers enveloping his and the stranger’s skin warm and rough against his palm .The shoulder still under Clint’s other hand shook as Phil’s chuckle turned into an outright laugh, already beautiful eyes crinkling; Clint could swear that he was probably starting to drool and that more than anything brought him out of his daze. He huffed out a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin as he realized what he’d said.

“I’m Clint, hi… um, yeah. Hi.” he squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. “So…” Opening his eyes again Clint realized his hand was still on the guy’s, Phil’s, shoulder and slowly removed it in what he hoped was a casual manner. “Yeah.” Smooth, he was not. “Sorry about the tripping and the touching and the…” Crap, he needed to stop talking.

Phil still had that amused uptick of his mouth going on as he waved off Clint’s apology. “Not a problem. They still have you on the high powered meds, huh?” His eyes flicked down to the knee brace for a moment, and then back to Clint’s face.

“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Clint laughed. “No, that is my usual brilliant reaction, believe it or not. Actually talking to people is harder than you’d think. Unless it’s for work or with my BFF.” That confession got him a deeper grin from the man.

“BFF?” Phil moved to the side as a man carrying a too large carry-on bumped past them, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him.

The sheepish look appeared again. “Um, Best Friend Forever. Sorry, my last job involved a set of 13 year old twins.”

Phil nodded in understanding. “Yes, the infamous text-speak. Fortunately, my nephew tells me I am too old to learn it.” He leaned in and murmured conspiratorily, the rumble of it stroking over Clint’s nerves that close to his ear. “I just don’t let him know I know it. IMO it saves a lot of headache when talking to him.”

Clint barked out a sharp laugh when Phil spelled out IMO. “No, I get it. Smart man. Um, hey… since the flight is held up, would you like to go grab a cup of coffee?”

“Love to.” Phil picked up his own carry on, adjusted his speed to Clint’s unthinkingly as they walked. “I keep telling myself that they’re gonna get us out of here tonight. Wishful thinking for the season I guess.”

The line at the coffee counter wasn’t horrible, so Clint just shifted his bag to the opposite shoulder as they moved up in the queue. “You’re not the only one hoping that.”

“Going to see family, then?” Phil asked as the Santa-hatted barista slouched away to grab their orders.

“No, just my BFF, Natasha and some of our friends.” Clint picked up his gingerbread latte and sipped. “Brunch at Tasha’s is the absolute BEST brunch. Usually I’m there by now and we all sleep in and then eat ourselves sick all day on Christmas day.”

Phil retrieved his own cup, breathed in the deep aroma of dark roast as he followed Clint to a table with a seasonal fake poinsettia plant and a less-than-festive wobble. “That sounds like a great way to spend the day. What kind of food is in the absolute best brunch?”

The grin on Clint’s face was relaxed and fond. “It’s always changing depending on her mood. She makes awesome French Toast with lots of fruit and homemade whipped cream… let’s see we sometimes have Kutia which is kind of like oatmeal, eggs and sausage and bacon. She hates grits, but she’ll make it because I like it.” He took a breath and another sip of sugary drink, thinking about all the non-artificial flavors awaiting him. “There’s usually a ham for sandwiches and potato salad along with some other non breakfast type foods. Then we vary what we do to pass the time between eating. Movies, cards, board games, roasting marshmallows and making hot chocolate.” The torrent of words stopped and Clint shrugged with his hands still in the air, “...it’s just a really good day.” he finished.

Phil put his elbows on the table, coffee cup dangling between his hands as he leaned towards Clint, eyes dark and warm with fondness and other, less easily identified thoughts. “It sounds fabulous. Do you have all that every year?”

Clint shook his head. “No, the menu does change. Some things stay the same… but I never know what the full menu is. Sam did promise he was making pierogi this year though.”

Phil settled back in his chair, mimicking the way Clint had just situated himself. “Who is Sam?”

“Sam is Tasha’s boy toy.” Clint laughed. “Well, that’s what HE calls himself anyway. He’s a trip and a half. Smart and funny and they are just perfect for each other. When I first met him I could have sworn Tasha was gonna rip him in half. That peckerhead was this close to being mystery meat,” he held his fingers close together “and all he did was smile and duck his head and she was GONE over him.”

Phil had caught his breath a little when Clint was demonstrating that smile and head duck, and then smiled in response; Clint wanted to taste that smile. Damn, he had to stop thinking along those lines, he thought, shaking it off as Phil spoke. Don’t get caught staring again, idiot. “I take it she’s a kick ass now and ask questions later kind of woman?” Phil was saying.

“Oh, yeah! Completely. It was so unnerving! I must’ve stood there watching them for at least five minutes when she allowed him to take her out on the dance floor. Kept waiting for her to take his head off.” That soft smile was back “She’s amazing though. I don’t how I’d make it through this world without her.” Clint stopped talking suddenly “I’m sorry, here I am monopolizing the whole conversation.”

“It’s not a bad thing.” Phil lifted his cup to take a long drink of his coffee. “You have a great way of talking. Entertaining and informative.” 

Clint’s smile was a shy, Phil thought it was almost adorable. If one could apply the word adorable to a man as handsome as he was. Whatever it was it made Phil’s stomach flip.

“So are you heading out to see family? Your nephew?” Clint asked, something about the way Phil was watching him making wonder about the answer, made him want to reach out and tangle his fingers into the other man’s, be sure that someone was waiting for him with as much warmth and concern, as much interest, as he clearly had for the people around him. 

“No, we had an early extended family celebration. Tomorrow is all about immediate family. I have to be back in the city for work anyway, so it’s not really a hardship.”

Clint cupped his jaw with his hand as he leaned on it. “A man dedicated to the job, then?”

Phil shrugged a wry smile twisting his mouth. “Some people just have to work or be available over the holidays. There is a rotation so people don’t have to work every holiday. Christmas just happens to be mine this year. I’m on call for the day but I will most likely be there catching up on paperwork and eating the finest turkey that can be pressed into a can.” His chuckle was a little self deprecating.

“You should come over to Nat’s.” Clint’s eyes widened slightly as he registered what he said but then the smile followed. “It wouldn’t even need to be at a certain time. Just whenever you’re ready to pull your hair out from all the forms and emails.”

“Oh, I don’t…” Phil started, surprised and hesitant but pleased all the same, something in the angle of his eyes and the way he leaned in ...hopeful, maybe?

Clint hoped it was hopeful.

“No, really. I’m serious. There is always plenty of food and something to entertain. Nat doesn’t mind if I bring home people.” He kept his eyes on Phil’s, his voice as earnest as he could make it. “We usually make homemade mulled apple cider if that would sway your decision.”

“I… I would love to, thank you.” Phil said after a long pause, face brightening, self-conscious but still smiling. “Do you bring home a lot of strays?”

Clint released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “No, that’s Sam’s job.” he grinned wider “Last year he brought two people in from the street because they were just in hoodies wearing fingerless gloves instead of real coats and gloves. Come to find out they were vets and homeless at the time--Natasha’s good about getting people’s stories out of them. Personally, I’ve found if someone doesn’t want something known then they won’t share it until they’re ready. But anyway Steve and Bucky were vets and having problems with the admin people in getting their benefits. Sam helped them out with that and now they both have good jobs and their own place in Natasha’s building.” Clint sighed. “That is what the holiday should be about. Finding people and helping them.”

 

“Sounds like you guys do a good job of that.” 

Clint wondered at Phil’s eyes, if they were a little misty or if it was just the dim lights and flickering Christmas decorations; in any event, he wouldn’t embarrass him pointing it out - or himself, if he was wrong, he thought, grinning at him with a hint of fondness. “Yeah, it’s kind of an amazing thing. So seriously, don’t say you’ll come and make up an excuse why you can’t come. You can be ‘just Phil’ and I’ll introduce you to whoever is there at the time. It’s a bonus for spending the entire day of Christmas buried in paperwork.” His grin widened.

Phil returned the grin, something defenseless in it. “Well, I can’t say no to that kind of offer.”

“Great. Here, give me your number. I’ll text you the address and then you’ll have my number too.” He thumbed on his phone and entered the number as Phil dutifully recited it before sending off the aforementioned text. “You can text me if you get bored at work and I will entertain you. I might anyway, just because you were foolish enough to give me your number.”

Phil shook his head, eyes faraway and considering for a moment, lips still curved up. “What?” Clint asked him, unable to stop himself wanting to know what that look was for, that wry and still somehow dreaming look.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Phil said huskily, and made Clint very glad for red-eye flights twice delayed, the snatches of carols on the overhead broadcast breaking into the noise around them somehow perfect.


End file.
